Written for @lesbiansassemble‘s 10k Femslash Challenge.
Sif/Valkyrie; Rated T; 964 Words; No warnings are necessary, I think.
It’s not the sun that wakes them, though Midgardian
blinds are pathetic, permitting thin stripes of morning light to cut across the
width of their bedroom. No, it’s the noise. The noise of Æsir rising to toil
another day rebuilding their lost kingdom.The compound they occupy is spacious and functional,
allowing for more freedom and exercise than when they were aboard the Statesman, but the world outside echoes.
With footsteps, the clatter of tools, the thud of boxes and barrels, beeps,
honks, and voices. Many, many voices. Shouting. Laughing. Complaining. Talking.Valkyrie has found breaking her centuries-old habit of
sleeping and waking at her leisure to be a monumental task. She frowns towards
the door—towards the noise—before
rolling her stiff neck, nose brushing flesh.Her head rests on a shoulder blade, shifting with
every breath its owner takes, the pattern becoming uneven and shallow as they wake.This change she thinks she’s adjusted to. To knowing
who she’s woken up beside.
Tag: thor fanfiction
Prince of Darkness – Chapter 2: Paradise Regained – Philosopher_King – Thor (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
“Thor was beginning to think he might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her, had given his implicit permission.
“So it came as a complete surprise when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode, ‘Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?’
“Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full measure of her fury and disappointment?
“He emerged from the room where he had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.”
@shine-of-asgard‘s giveaway fic is now completely posted on AO3, Parts I and II as Chapter 1 (Paradise Lost), Parts III and IV as Chapter 2 (Paradise Regained). It’s probably easier to read there than as 4 parts on Tumblr…
Prince of Darkness – Chapter 2: Paradise Regained – Philosopher_King – Thor (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
“Thor was beginning to think he might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her, had given his implicit permission.
“So it came as a complete surprise when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode, ‘Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?’
“Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full measure of her fury and disappointment?
“He emerged from the room where he had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.”
@shine-of-asgard‘s giveaway fic is now completely posted on AO3, Parts I and II as Chapter 1 (Paradise Lost), Parts III and IV as Chapter 2 (Paradise Regained). It’s probably easier to read there than as 4 parts on Tumblr…
Prince of Darkness – Chapter 1: Paradise Lost – Philosopher_King – Thor (Movies) [Archive of Our Own]
“After Odin fell into the Sleep, Loki kept going back to the Vault every few hours to stand before the plinth where the Casket of Ancient Winters lay. Like a guilty man returning to the scene of the crime. But what was the crime, he wondered, and whose? Loki’s driving his father past the brink of exhaustion by confronting him with the truth? Or Odin’s abandoning his son when he most needed his father’s guidance? Or was it earlier: the lie he had told Loki for his whole life only to reveal the truth in the wrong way, at the wrong moment, and then escape taking responsibility for the aftermath? …
“He saved my life, Loki reminded himself; I would have died if he hadn’t taken me. But was that even true? Could he believe Odin’s word about anything, now? Was he a rescued castoff or a hostage? … Loki was starved for knowledge, and he knew he would not get it from Odin. Nor could he expect truth from his mother, from Frigga: Odin might well have told her the same lies. No, there was only one person he could ask: Laufey himself. As a king to another king, Laufey owed him the courtesy of truth.”
Posting my giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard on AO3 in two parts with a bit of a delay, for exposure reasons. (Do you have an AO3 account, so I can list it as a gift?) Prompt: “Loki/Lucifer and Odin/God. Variation of the ‘Lightbringer’ theme where Loki rebels against Odin and tries to steal the Casket of Winters to give it back to the Jotnar. It can follow the ‘biblical’ version with Odin striking Loki down and Loki falling from Asgard or you can spin it any other the way you want. Bonus points for the appearance of Thor as a conflicted good archangel who loves his brother but won’t go against God for him.”
Prince of Darkness, Fourth and Final Part
Two months after I got the prompt, I finally finished @shine-of-asgard‘s fic from my 666-follower giveaway. Jeezy Chreezy.
Thor
and his companions made camp on the glacier. They ate from the travel rations
they had packed because there was no hunting or forage to speak of. The sun
scarcely seemed to dip below the horizon for an hour, and it never truly grew
dark. Thor’s friends seemed to be able to sleep, shielded from the unrelenting
light by the thick fabric of their tent, but Thor could not.He
left Volstagg’s snoring and Sif’s quiet nonsensical muttering and sat alone on
a fur blanket on the snow-covered ice, watching the sky slowly change from light
blue tinged with pink at the horizon to a deepening lilac. As the sky darkened,
a ribbon of acid-green light became visible, like a great serpent wrapped
around the Earth. Thor remembered this from his visits to Midgard in his youth:
the Northern Lights. He remembered asking Loki if he had cast some sort of
illusion, and Loki had shaken his head, his mouth slightly open in awe, and
said, “No, it’s just the sky.”The
sun was well above the horizon again when his friends emerged from the tent and
began busying themselves with rebuilding the fire. None of them asked Thor
whether he had slept at all, for which he was grateful. After a light
breakfast of toasted waybread and slices of cured meat, they quenched the fire
with snow and headed toward the cluster of black tents where Coulson’s
comrades—the “agents of Shield,” he had called them—had made camp.They
met Coulson and a few of his black-clad agents partway between their two camps.
“Loki has agreed to meet with you,” Coulson said. “I’ll escort you to the Jötun
encampment.”Perfect ending! I didn’t know what to expect, but Loki actually not wanting to rule Jotunheim is perfect, as is his carving his place somewhere else entirely and not going by any titles.
“Blood will out” lol. Fuck Odin. And Frigga to some degree. And Thor should grow up. So yeah, perfect story
Thank you so much! I’m so glad you’re happy with it 🙂
Prince of Darkness, Fourth and Final Part
Two months after I got the prompt, I finally finished @shine-of-asgard‘s fic from my 666-follower giveaway. Jeezy Chreezy.
Thor
and his companions made camp on the glacier. They ate from the travel rations
they had packed because there was no hunting or forage to speak of. The sun
scarcely seemed to dip below the horizon for an hour, and it never truly grew
dark. Thor’s friends seemed to be able to sleep, shielded from the unrelenting
light by the thick fabric of their tent, but Thor could not.He
left Volstagg’s snoring and Sif’s quiet nonsensical muttering and sat alone on
a fur blanket on the snow-covered ice, watching the sky slowly change from light
blue tinged with pink at the horizon to a deepening lilac. As the sky darkened,
a ribbon of acid-green light became visible, like a great serpent wrapped
around the Earth. Thor remembered this from his visits to Midgard in his youth:
the Northern Lights. He remembered asking Loki if he had cast some sort of
illusion, and Loki had shaken his head, his mouth slightly open in awe, and
said, “No, it’s just the sky.”The
sun was well above the horizon again when his friends emerged from the tent and
began busying themselves with rebuilding the fire. None of them asked Thor
whether he had slept at all, for which he was grateful. After a light
breakfast of toasted waybread and slices of cured meat, they quenched the fire
with snow and headed toward the cluster of black tents where Coulson’s
comrades—the “agents of Shield,” he had called them—had made camp.They
met Coulson and a few of his black-clad agents partway between their two camps.
“Loki has agreed to meet with you,” Coulson said. “I’ll escort you to the Jötun
encampment.”
Reblogging so the “Keep reading” link will show up on mobile and also to tag people who have been reading or might be interested: @acebakes, @angrymadsygin, @banded-bulbous-bilgesnipe, @darklittlestories, @fuckyeahrichardiii, @illwynd, @imaginetrilobites, @incredifishface, @loxxxlay, @lucianalight, @princess-ikol, @sparklingmarvel, @wnnbdarklord
Prince of Darkness, Fourth and Final Part
Two months after I got the prompt, I finally finished @shine-of-asgard‘s fic from my 666-follower giveaway. Jeezy Chreezy.
Thor
and his companions made camp on the glacier. They ate from the travel rations
they had packed because there was no hunting or forage to speak of. The sun
scarcely seemed to dip below the horizon for an hour, and it never truly grew
dark. Thor’s friends seemed to be able to sleep, shielded from the unrelenting
light by the thick fabric of their tent, but Thor could not.
He
left Volstagg’s snoring and Sif’s quiet nonsensical muttering and sat alone on
a fur blanket on the snow-covered ice, watching the sky slowly change from light
blue tinged with pink at the horizon to a deepening lilac. As the sky darkened,
a ribbon of acid-green light became visible, like a great serpent wrapped
around the Earth. Thor remembered this from his visits to Midgard in his youth:
the Northern Lights. He remembered asking Loki if he had cast some sort of
illusion, and Loki had shaken his head, his mouth slightly open in awe, and
said, “No, it’s just the sky.”
The
sun was well above the horizon again when his friends emerged from the tent and
began busying themselves with rebuilding the fire. None of them asked Thor
whether he had slept at all, for which he was grateful. After a light
breakfast of toasted waybread and slices of cured meat, they quenched the fire
with snow and headed toward the cluster of black tents where Coulson’s
comrades—the “agents of Shield,” he had called them—had made camp.
They
met Coulson and a few of his black-clad agents partway between their two camps.
“Loki has agreed to meet with you,” Coulson said. “I’ll escort you to the Jötun
encampment.”
“Just
‘Loki’?” Volstagg asked, sarcastic. “Not ‘King Loki’? ‘Emperor Loki’?”
Coulson
frowned at him. “He didn’t specify a title. He did specify that he wanted to
talk to Thor only, without his… ‘lackeys’ was the word he used.”
“Do
you think we’re stupid enough to leave our prince alone with that snake?” Sif
demanded.
Coulson
raised his eyebrows. “They won’t be alone. I have two of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best
agents monitoring the Jötnar constantly, and I’ll stay nearby, along with
Agents Triplett and Mackenzie.” He gestured to the imposing men who flanked
him. The larger one nodded in greeting; the slimmer one smiled and gave a
little wave.
“I’ll
be fine, Sif,” Thor said. “Loki will not harm me.” He wished he believed that,
aside from the presence of the human warriors. Not that they could truly stop
Loki and his Jötun soldiers if he wanted to hurt Thor; but Loki was playing
some longer game, and would not wish to endanger his truce with the humans.
Thor
followed Coulson and his agents toward the coast, where the glacier seemed to
pour between gray stone cliffs, stopping just short of the sea. The Jötnar had
made crude shelters of ice—though perhaps they did not need much in the way of
shelter—and laid down furs in the lees they formed from the wind. Some had been
sitting on these furs, talking or perhaps playing games with rune-stones, but
stood when they saw Thor approaching with Coulson.
Loki
was impossible to miss. He was flanked by two giants of normal height, but
stood between them as proudly is if he were half again their height rather than
scarcely half of it. Thor’s fear that he would be unable to recognize Loki by
anything but his height turned out not to be entirely justified: though his
features were hard to make out when carved from lapis rather than marble, Thor
recognized his posture and the cut of his hair, which he had not shaved in the
custom of his Jötun compatriots, but had adorned with a simple circlet of the
pale jade that the Jötnar favored for jewelry and armor. Nor did he, who in
Asgard had always covered himself from neck to wrist, wear the loincloth
customary among Frost Giants; instead he wore a tunic of soft gray hide that
came to his knees, with a collar high on his chest and a belt around his waist
ornately carved of the same jade.
“Prince
Thor of Asgard,” Loki greeted him, very formally; then, turning to his escort,
“Agent Coulson.” His careful, correct tone never changed, nor did his
calculating scarlet gaze.
“Prince
Loki,” Coulson replied, just as polite. “How have you been getting along with
Agents Romanoff and Barton?” At that, a red-haired Midgardian woman in black
looked up from where she was sitting, playing at rune-stones with one of the
Jötnar, and waved.
“They
have been fine guests,” Loki said. “Agent Romanoff has quite taken to our games
of strategy. Barton is less proficient, but has been learning to throw blades
made of ice.”
Thor,
finding this ritual small talk maddening, bulled his way through it. “Loki, brother,
why have you done this?”
Loki
turned that cold gaze back on him, and did something flicker beneath the ice,
or was it only contempt? “Done what, precisely?”
“All
of it!”
Loki’s
eyes narrowed and his nostrils flared, and Thor could see his moody,
condescending brother beneath the veneer of diplomatic calm. “All of it? Well,
I took the Casket from Odin because he had no right to it; I returned it to
Jötunheim because the realm was dying without it. I killed Laufey because he
tried to kill me and showed no remorse. I waged war against Asgard because it
has waged unjust war against all of the realms in its dominion. I came here
because… because Jötunheim still has no place for those like me. I will make a home
here for those who have no place in Jötunheim—those born small; those
dispossessed by the war, or left homeless by the latest attack from Asgard. Our attack.” He stopped; his voice had
been rising, his breath quickening, and he needed to collect himself. Loki
could never let himself be seen losing control of his emotions.
“Your
home is in Asgard, not here—not this frozen wasteland, in this backward realm.”
Loki
flicked his eyes over to Coulson, who had backed away to stand at a polite
distance, and murmured, “Don’t let our good host hear you. And yes, it is all
that, but… a little corner of it can be mine, to shape and cultivate as I wish.
There is nothing for me in Asgard.”
“That
is not true, Loki. You have a family that loves you.”
Loki
raised his eyebrows in a show of cool skepticism; Thor was unsure whether the
disgusted twist of his mouth was voluntary. “Yes, I’m sure Odin All-Father’s
demand to ‘turn over the traitor Loki Laufeyson’ was only so that he could show
me how much he loves me, name change notwithstanding.”
Thor
flinched, but refused to be put off so easily. “He is very angry with you, but
that does not mean he no longer loves you.”
“No,
indeed. ‘No longer’ presupposes that he once loved me.”
“Of
course he did, and does,” Thor protested, but Odin’s brittle voice echoed in
his head: “Blood will out. The boy was always
a liar and a sneak.” “He was angry enough to cast me out—you saw it—but he
has welcomed me back.”
“Yes,
because he needed his true son to vanquish the false one… and because you
suddenly seemed a model of loyal obedience once he saw what real rebellion was.”
Thor
shook his head; this was going nowhere. “Loki, please, come home. Mother has
not been herself…”
“Then
perhaps she should have come to treat with me, as invited. But instead Odin
sent you—I think not as a peace envoy.”
“No,
but… Loki, I do not wish to fight. You are my brother; nothing can change that.
I want my brother at my side again.”
“Ah,
there we are. After all the deflection—‘Mother’ this, ‘Father’ that—at last you
speak for yourself.”
Thor’s
anger flared at that—but part of what fueled his anger was the knowledge that
Loki was right. So he quashed it and said, “I speak only for myself when I say:
you have a brother who loves you.”
At
last a hint of softness came into those strange yet wholly familiar red eyes.
But they quickly hardened again and Loki said with a bitter laugh, “Of course
you’d only get around to showing it when you saw there was a real chance you
wouldn’t have me at your back anymore. That’s quite the improvement from ‘Some
do battle, others just do tricks’ and ‘Know your place, brother.’”
Shame
burned in Thor’s gut to hear his own words thrown back at him. “I’m no longer
the reckless, arrogant boy who took all his blessings for granted. I’ve
changed.”
Loki laughed again, ironic and pitying. “And so have
I. I’ve learned a great deal about myself, not least of which is this: I’d
rather rule in Hel than serve in Valhalla.”
Shieldmaidens
HAPPY FRIDAY THE 13TH BIRTHDAY!!! <333
The queen shooed away her favorite cat, a sleek silvery-grey sylph of a thing and with a gesture, cleared the plush upholstery of any fluff. The seat was a twin to her own, on a balcony overlooking her private garden. From here, the acoustics and the view gave a perfect sense of quiet and seclusion.
She sipped her tea and waited for her guest as the little cat wound its way between her legs, looking ironically like a swimming fish.
Shortly, her attendant Fulla announced the arrival of the Lady Sif.
Frigga smiled and waited, counting in her mind.
One, two, three, and:
Clatter of armor tossed onto a bench in the foyer.
Curses. A mocking, “The Lady Sif, Your Majesty.”A lot of huffing breaths.
And at last, a little sigh of air from the cushioned chair as Sif plopped down gracelessly and swept her hair up off her neck.
Frigga smiled with great affection. She had two regular visitors, and each of them came in and tied up black hair into messy knots. One removed her battle armor and one dropped most if not all of his mental armor.
Often they came to complain colorfully and at length about one another.
(The Queen of Asgard was well-versed in the holding of secrets.)
She poured Sif a cup of soothing tea made from herbs grown in the garden below. Their meetings were informal by design, perhaps radically so, and this suited them both well.
“How was training?” Frigga asked with a lopsided smile and shining eyes.
Sif made a noise that was half grunt and half exasperated sigh.
Frigga snorted. “Oh, yes. I remember.”
“Were you the only shieldmaiden training before you married Odin?”
“There was one other, who came with Fulla and me from Vanaheim. Gullveig. She was most skilled in runes but quite fierce on the battlefield. We spilled blood together in the earliest skirmishes against the Jotnar, after the Vanir and Aesir united.”
She gave a sly smile at the word “united,” and Sif replied with a sharp smirk of her own. She loved the queen—Frigga—like this. These visits couldn’t be arranged often but they were a balm for both of them. Frigga understood like no one else in the city could the subtle trials Sif endured training only with men.
The only other odd one out was Loki, and he was the worst one of all to Sif’s unending consternation. When their little group had finally been old enough to join Volstagg and train in the barracks, Sif had been bubbling over with excitement alongside Thor, Fandral, and Hogun. But she’d had to fight, argue, and beg her way into the troops.
Meanwhile Loki, a naturally skilled fighter, had balked at every lesson despite it being his assumed position as a prince. Because of his attitude he’d been insulted several times until the boys responsible were were punished—and too viciously even for Sif’s liking.
After that, Loki hurled the words ergi and argr about louder than the others. Sif had gritted her teeth and borne in silence the indignation about the implication that womanliness was the worst insult these stupid young men could invoke.
And then the invitation from the queen arrived and (after several tense and disbelieving visits sipping teas on Frigga’s balcony) Sif found a place where she could speak freely.
And so there they were, the queen of the Realm Eternal nibbling lemoncakes and tiny pastries filled with elderberries that melted in one’s mouth while a young warrior with a smudge of dirt across a cheekbone and a fine spray of dried blood (not her own) flecked her arm ate small cucumber and goat cheese sandwiches by the handful.
“Thor tries,” Sif was saying around a mouthful of food, maneuvering a pile of figs onto a plate. “He does. But it’s as if he tries too much. He barrels into situations when I’m more than capable of handling them myself!”
“Even today, I had bested Enar and he’d risen up—you should have seen how red his face was! It rivaled his hair! But he’d got up, and was explaining to me that how the moves I’d made were actually incorrect and he would have won had a cloud not moved and the sun not blinded him!”
Frigga was giggling uncontrollably. She could picture Enar, red to the roots of his hair and lecturing the warrior who’d beaten him.
“Honestly, Your Majesty! It was quite the laugh! But then Thor came swooping in to ‘rescue me,’ as always. I glared daggers through him but that damned fool was oblivious. I know he means well, so it is a difficult…”
“It is not!” Frigga sobered quickly. “You tell that young man he’s to allow you to wage your own wars as he would any other comrade-in-arms or he shall have his dread mother to answer to!”
They laughed together, and when the mood settled, the queen lifted Sif from her worries with tales of her own days as a sheildmaiden of Asgard. She began this time with the occasion upon which she and Fulla had donned men’s armor and snuck into the tavern on the outskirts of the West Town…
Um. Someone got tipsy on $5 wine & plum forgot to tag anyone. SO:
@angrymadsygin @philosopherking1887 @pinknoonicorn @ikoliholic @writernotwaiting @raven-brings-light @fourletterwordsstartingwithl @incredifishface @rynfinity @illwynd @ghostxforest @lunariagold @inkededucatednnerdy @sparklepoops @stmonkeys @msmynx @gutterfortunecookie @yazileona @taste-of-rain @wolfsmom1 @bubblebubble03 @viestadisaster @satanssyn-n-things @neveserene @angelsseb @sexualthorientation @lokidreamsinbw @adaringdrinkerofdreams @amandahuffleduck @oldmanjameson @vika-avey @foundlingmother @dwell-ondreams @fictions-stranger
I love the parallels between Sif and Loki – and the suggestion that Loki defensively uses the same insults that are thrown at him. And Asgardian manplaining.
Prince of Darkness, Part III
My 666-follower giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard, which I originally intended to be between 1000 and 2000 words, is now more than 7000 words… and I still have one part left. This is even worse than the time my 2500-word giveaway fic for @darklittlestories came out at 5200. Length limits are seriously not my thing.
————————————
Thor was beginning to think he
might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his
father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he
could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in
vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing
and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her (he
called himself her “advisor,” which seemed odd considering that she held no
political power) had given his implicit permission.So it came as a complete surprise
when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode,
“Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?”Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was
instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full
measure of her fury and disappointment?He emerged from the room where he
had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously
bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against
the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed
wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.
Prince of Darkness, Part III
My 666-follower giveaway fic for @shine-of-asgard, which I originally intended to be between 1000 and 2000 words, is now more than 7000 words… and I still have one part left. This is even worse than the time my 2500-word giveaway fic for @darklittlestories came out at 5200. Length limits are seriously not my thing.
————————————
Thor was beginning to think he
might be happy in Midgard. Not yet, of course; not while the news of his
father’s death and his mother’s rejection was still so fresh, not while he
could still feel the ache in his muscles from straining to lift Mjölnir, in
vain. But someday. He would court Jane slowly, as befit a lady of her standing
and education. Selvig, who seemed to stand in place of a father for her (he
called himself her “advisor,” which seemed odd considering that she held no
political power) had given his implicit permission.So it came as a complete surprise
when Lady Darcy called from the front room of the Midgardians’ strange abode,
“Thor? There’s someone here for you… she says she’s your mother?”Thor’s hesitant spark of hope was
instantly smothered. What could she be here for, but to let him feel the full
measure of her fury and disappointment?He emerged from the room where he
had been reading one of Jane’s texts of Midgardian physics (a wondrously
bizarre way of viewing the world) with his head bowed, bracing himself against
the onslaught. But when he dared to raise his eyes, Frigga’s expression seemed
wrong; it was worry, not anger, that creased her brow and tightened her lips.
I’m reblogging this from myself because I think the “Keep reading” link doesn’t show up on the phone app or sometimes even on computer browsers unless it’s reblogged, and this post is just too long for Tumblr’s bullshit (which is why I put in the link in the first place).
Also tagging some people I think might have been reading: @acebakes, @angrymadsygin, @foundlingmother, @illwynd, @kingloptr, @nursejoh53, @wouldyouknowmore, @writernotwaiting
Loki is the Philosopher King 